He's Just Not That Into You
by cherrichik
Summary: Blinded by her own misgivings, refusing to acknowledge Soul Society's gossip concerning her relationship with Ichigo was Rukia's first mistake. A seven-shot Ichigo x Rukia post-Winter War.
1. He's Just Not That Into You If He:

I art alive!

Recently, I've spotted the shiny that is Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki and wandered over to see what all the fuss was about. This series is named after a self-help book I stumbled across.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I would have named it something infinitely cooler than a strong-smelling disinfectant.

* * *

The Root of the Problem

Growing up surrounded by nobles when you're acutely aware Inuzuri is a total slum does wonders to your self-esteem. Make that a _couple of hundred years_ surrounded by said nobles, and anyone born outside of the Noble Clans would feel like an impostor.

She didn't consider herself particularly smart, or pretty, or charming, or good with steel and spells, and Kaien's death certainly didn't help make her feel anymore worthy of anything. She was judged to be inferior by the Elders and another untouchable snob by most everyone else. The sole fact that she was told (_not in words, but in actions, which hurt significantly more_) she was never good enough was soon rooted so deeply within her she could not help but completely believe it herself.

And so, when she first heard the insane rumours flying around that one Ichigo Kurosaki was harbouring feelings more than friendship for her, Rukia Kuchiki simply could not find it in herself to believe them. So, naturally, she dismissed them as someone with too much free time on their hands and thought nothing more about it.

Too bad nobody else thought the same.

"You," Rangiku Matsumoto announced on the courage of too many bottles of sake, "have to wake up."

The voluptuous blonde and Rukia herself were the only ones still conscious – Rukia because she had had none and Rangiku because her liver was made of cast-iron. She had been in the process of gently extracting Renji's hands from their chokehold position around Ikkaku's neck, but stopped to raise a delicate eyebrow at her friend.

"Wake up to what, Ran?"

"_Everyone _in _both worlds_ can see it," she continued, as if she hadn't heard. Rukia rolled her eyes and continued working her dead-weight of a childhood friend into a position that would be relatively comfortable come morning, then turned her attention to Ikkaku. "Matsumoto, I highly doubt the rumours are true."

Rangiku hopped down unsteadily from the table and wobbled over to sit on the least untrashed chair in the room (missing a back and one leg had teeth marks), picking up another bottle as she went. She was silent for a while as she watched Rukia tend to each of the unconscious in turn (the motherly part of her brain tsked in disapprovement at how the Clan could degrade her long-time friend when she did things like this, and absent-mindedly wondered how Byakuya would react to a stern lecture).

"Honey, I usually _start _the rumours, so I know from experience that they aren't around this long unless there's some truth to it." She squinted to gage a reaction. Rukia was frowning, but she couldn't tell if it was because of her words or because Kira's arm was stuck under the combined weight of Hisagi and Iba.

Knowing it was quickly going nowhere fast, she tried a different approach. In a hushed tone (although no-one was conscious for miles around), she whispered: "Do _you_ like him?" Disappointingly, the petite shinigami didn't stutter or turn amusing shades of red. She groaned inwardly and took another giant swig. Fodder for the rumour mill usually came so much easier than this.

"_Ruuu_-kia! You can't tell me you feel nothing for that human hunk! I mean, screw what everyone else says, his hair colour is _sexy_, and he has the most gorgeous eyes…"

"He's underage." And went back to rolling Iba off Hisagi and onto a spare patch of dirt.

Really? That's _really_ her response?

"He's _twenty!_ I'll have you know that in most countries the age of adulthood is eighteen. Ichigo's legal with a capital L, sugar! And," her eyes crinkled mischievously in a way that had men feeling their shihakusho's were tied too tightly, "you still haven't given me an answer."

"I don't know."

She stopped mid-swig. "You don't know…" Rangiku tested the words, frowning, searching through the haze of her mind to find the hidden meaning in those words. "How can you not know?"

An exasperated sigh. "Ran, I'd prefer we didn't talk about this."

Full lips turned down in a playful pout. "Aww, Ruki-chan, we're both wom—"

"I never ask you about Gin." Okay, that hurt. But despite her thirst for gossip, the blonde was especially sensitive to her petite friend's emotions. Dropping the happy-go-lucky, she fixed scarily sober-looking eyes on Rukia.

"Okay okay, I'm sorry. But Ruki, I just want you to be happy. The War's finished and it's just exasperating for us to sit here and watch you two dance around this issue when you could've sorted it out ages ago. I just want you be happy," she repeated. "Because Kami knows you deserve it."

Rukia held her gaze, but though Rangiku knew her words had touched her friend, she would never truly believe them. Sometimes she wanted to slap the Elders for the mess they had made of her friend's self-esteem.

"I'm leaving now. Drink lots of water, okay?" Her heart sank.

But at the door, she paused and turned, and was rewarded with a tiny smile. "Thanks, Ran."

Rangiku was left to her thoughts, surrounded by passed-out friends and empty bottles, contemplating the dilemma that hit so close to home. One thing, however, gave her hope.

'I don't know' may not necessarily mean yes, but it didn't mean no either.

* * *

First Bleach fic, so constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I feel like I still haven't got a proper grip on the characters, but I'm trying hard to correct that.

I also promise the later one-shots will be longer and more light-hearted. As it'll all loosely come together in the end, suggestions are welcome!

-cherri


	2. Doesn't Call You

Second chapter is up! (Well duh, but you get it).

Ahh, so happy to get reviews for this! I appreciate them and am glad that Rukia appears to be in character to you.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, Yachiru would have already made an appearance and trolled Aizen.

* * *

He's Just Not That Into You If He: Doesn't Call You

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

All her Kuchiki training could not stop her eyebrow from twitching.

_Ignore it, Rukia. He's just trying to get on your nerves._

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

_Meditate. Breathe in, breathe out._

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

Her pen cracked in foreboding.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

She snapped.

"WHAT, ICHIGO?"

"…"

"DO YOU NOT HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN LISTEN TO MY DIAL TONE?"

"…"

"BECAUSE I CAN ASSURE YOU, YOU CAN CALL ANY PHONE WHEN SOMEONE'S IGNORING YOU AND _COME OUT WITH THE SAME RESULT!"_

"…"

His silence spiked her temper to an all-time high. Kami, at least remark on her lack of Kuchiki demeanour so she can really let him have it...

"WELL? NOW THAT YOU'VE FINALLY GOT ME, AREN'T YOU GOING TO AT LEAST **SAY SOMETHING?"**

A rough voice dryly said, "If you'd stop yelling maybe I'd put the phone close enough to my face for ya to hear me."

Rukia felt her cheeks colour. "...Renji. How are you."

"Che," the redhead snorted, reclining back and regarding the gloomy weather outside, "more like how are _you?_"

"I am fine." She continued furiously signing off meaningless documents to cover her embarrassment.

"_Riiiiight_. What the hell were you hollerin' about? I'm hearing from you for the first time in ages and this is what I get? Haven't heard ya rage so loudly since that whipped carrot stepped on your Chappy doll last year."

"Thankyou for reminding me. Now I can push his body through a mincer and sell it off as vegetarian without feeling guilty."

Renji chuckled, but sobered quickly. "He's just worried about you, Ruk."

An immediate growl. "_He's the one who should be worried…"_

"Common, why are ya being like this?"

"Because_,_" she bit out through gritted teeth, "he's called sixteen times_._" _Not that I'm counting._

A tattooed eyebrow raised. "What's the big deal? You've been in Soul Society a month now." Then he took a moment to do the math. "That's one practically every da-"

"_Today._"

"…oh. _Oh._ What time's it there, anyway?"

"Two o'clock in the morning." She replied without missing a beat.

There was a long pause, and then a sound that could only be described as a cackle reached her ear. She bristled. "_What_."

"Oh, man!" he howled, and Rukia could practically see him slapping his knee with tears of laughter streaming down his face. She unconsciously tightened her grip around the phone. "He's even more whipped than I thought!"

"He is not _whipped_!" The petite shinigami spoke the word like an abomination. Then, as an afterthought: "And what does that even mean?"

"Never mind," the pineapple was slowly (_slowly) _coming down from his high, "living world slang. Everyone here says it."

"How is England, anyway?"

"Don't change the subject, Rukia."

Her pen slowed, but she refused to stop completely. "From what?" At least with Renji she could still try to play dumb, unlike some other nosy, brash idiot she'd rather not name...

"Ichigo." The only reply he received was a sigh after a long pause, and the redhead could practically feel her deflate. The sound of a pen clattering reached his ear. "Rukia, the kid cares about ya. More than he'd like to admit. You care about him more than _you'd_ like to admit. Don't you think that if you picked up the first time you wouldn't be in this situation?"

Another long pause. Another sigh. "Been doing a lot of sighing and not a lotta answering."

"Thankyou, Captain Obvious. I was just marvelling that I have finally gone insane."

"Really."

"Yes. Receiving therapy from a pineapple about a strawberry."

"_Har har,_ Rukia, never heard that one before."

She smirked. "I know you're patting your hair."

"Am not!" He quickly removed his hand from his head. "But seriously," he said in a quiet tone, "haven't you noticed that all we ever talk about now is him? I'll bet most of your conversations with other people are about him too."

She felt her control lapse. "It's because of those stupid rumours, Renji! It's got nothing to do with them. When will people get it through their heads that we are _nothing more than friends?_ And _if _that changes, which it won't, that's for us to sort out, not the masses who have no idea that his hair colour is natural!"

The force of her words momentarily rendered him speechless, before a melancholy smile twitched up his lips.

Contrary to popular drinking legend, Renji wasn't dumb; especially when it came to his childhood friend. He knew exactly why Rukia genuinely couldn't understand how Ichigo could come to like her when he was surrounded by women like Yoruichi and that Inoue chick, when she was torn between noble and scum and made to fit in with neither and when she was too damn innocent and repenting for her own good. After all, he'd gone through the same phase in the Shinigami Academy, constantly trying to prove to everyone and himself that he deserved what he'd been granted, but he shed that skin of insecurity and found his own person. Evidently Rukia wasn't there yet. He mentally kicked himself for not detecting it earlier, but this was the first time he'd spoken to her since his mission in England, and that was months ago... pangs of guilt tugged at his heart.

The redhead knew he should try to snap her out of it, try to talk sense into her, but he also knew he wasn't delicate with his words and when she got worked up like this nothing anyone could say would sway her. So instead of pursuing the subject, he merely chuckled and kept it for another time.

"Alright alright, no need to get so defensive." She obviously hadn't expected him to let it go so quickly, because she was quiet for some time. The red-haired shinigami stared at the grey sky outside and wondered with concern if it was an omen of things to come.

"Look, Renji, I'm sorry." Rukia stared down at the characters on the document in front of her. "I didn't mean to get like that. I know you and Ran are just trying to help me, but I'd rather just work this through myself."

"It's okay. Wait, Matsumoto's sp—?"

Beep.

He couldn't stop the grin.

"Who could that be?"

Beep.

She sniffed.

Beep.

"Shut up and piss off, Abarai." Ah, at least she was in a better mood now.

Beep.

"Learned that from someone, didya Kuch—"

Beep.

"Well, no hiding now. See ya."

Beep.

Defeated sigh. "Bye, Renji."

Bee—. She didn't bother picking up her pen.

"Wh—"

"RUKIA!"

"…" She was stunned into silence.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"…"

"HERE I WAS THINKING YOU DECIDED TO GET GORED OUT BY SOME FREAKING HOLLOW AND I'D BUST IN THERE TO _FIND YOU FUCKING_ _BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!_"

"…"

"THE POINT OF A PHONE IS TO ANSWER WHEN SOMEONE'S CALLING, MIDGET! HAVEN'T YOU GOT THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD YET?"

"…" This was so not happening.

"WELL? NOW THAT YOU'VE FINALLY PICKED UP, AREN'T YOU GONNA **SAY SOMETHING?**"

Damn Renji and his stupid theories.

"Ichigo, I am fine."

"SO—oh."

"Yeah."

"…you're not on a mission?"

"I am."

"WHERE?" _Aaand _back to full bellow. "HUECO MUNDO?"

"Ukitake-taicho's office. Doing paperwork."

There was a pause in which she could almost see his mental cogs processing enough to stop him from sprinting to Urahara's.

"I'm coming back from Urahara's, midget." There was some vague shouting in the background, to which Ichigo roared, "Shut _up,_ you perverted lech!"

Her dreary mood was lifting nicely.

"Sorry about that. I woulda come into Soul Society but he freaking wouldn't let me use the gate. Stupid pedosmile…" He muttered darkly. Rukia could hear the wind whistling sharply and knew that he was in shinigami form.

"For good reason. I am not in danger."

"If you'd picked up the phone, I would have known that, wouldn't I?" He sniped sarcastically. "Jeez, short-stack." _Way to scare me._

Breezily. "Slipped my mind, Strawberry." _You know I'm lying – it's nice to know you care._

For a while, all she heard was the air rustling his robes. Then, mulishly: "Why did they call you back just for paperwork, anyway. They can get anyone to do that." _You don't look after yourself enough._

"Because." _It's my duty…_

He must have heard the thickness in her tone, because his voice softened. "Nah, s'alright." _I don't like it, but I understand. _"It's just that pops is pissing the shit outta me as to when you're coming back." _It's pissing the shit outta **me **as to when you're coming back._

She chuckled as she picked up her pen (she had to at least _look _like she was doing something), and Ichigo felt all his annoyance vanish. "Tell him and the girls I said hi. And get the couch ready." _All that Shakespeare junk better be moved._

"Hey! Don't order me around!" _Knew you liked my apartment better._

"Deal, beanpole." A thought flashed into mind. "Ichigo."

He grunted. The petite shinigami heard the whistling die down. _Impressive… Karakura to Kanagawa in under five._

"What does whipped mean?"

"I dunno, Rukia, maybe lashing someone with a piece of leather?"

"No, fool. Renji said that you were a, and I quote, 'whipped carrot'." She made quotation marks in the air. "So?"

"So what?" He sounded uncomfortable. The lock must be stuck again.

"So what does he mean, Ichigo!"

"Ignore Renji. He's always mouthing off stupid words." He reassumed his body, then walked to the bedroom.

"But—" Hacking coughs interrupted her, and by the silence on the other end of the phone she knew he had heard them too. "Damn. Ichigo?" She gestured, even though he couldn't see.

"Yeah yeah. Go." For the first time since the start of their conversation, his smile slipped. The orange-haired shinigami paused, listening to her scurry through the desk drawers for her Taicho's medication. "Later, midget."

The background noise stopped. Her voice was warm. "Later."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

oOo

(He sat heavily on the bed, knowing trying to get any sleep now was futile.

_Damn. Shortest phone call by far too long._

Automatically, his fingers pressed a combination into the keypad, then pressed loudspeaker as he lay down.

_"Hey, idiot beanpole, it's me. Just checking up on whether…")_


	3. Doesn't Want To Touch You

Another chapter!

Hope you like this one, and thankyou to everyone who reviews my weirdness.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, there would be panels every now and then of Isshin and Urahara plotting devious, devious things.

* * *

He's Just Not That Into You If He: Doesn't Want To Touch You

Soul Society, Rukia thought, was bland.

Well, maybe bland wasn't the right word, but boring was her next choice and that seemed even less of a fit. She contemplated, taking a sip of hot green tea. No, bland was definitely the word she was after. Don't get her wrong, she loved her world and she loved her job; but ever since her prolonged encounter with the Living World and everything in it she couldn't help but go back and see things differently. The Living World had so many jobs – builder banker burglar – so many opportunities, so many life roads to take. Here, you had a choice to either live with poverty (Rukongai), power (Seireitei) or pleasure (nobles) and even that wasn't really a choice. Her job was essential and she prided in it, but there were always days when even the proudest felt their life had become mundane. She grew up in Soul Society - it was her home - but the independent in her longed to discover other places, see new things. The shift from Inuzuri to Seireitei had initially been enough to sate that desire, but the Living World…

There was so much she didn't know. She was innocent of so many commonplace things – the juicebox proved that – and although she did feel out of place there was always a sense of waking up to find something she had never seen before, do something she had never done before. From technology to shopping centres to games arcades to the millions of different flowers the humans that walked past them took for granted everyday were, for her, wonder after eye-opening wonder.

It was not surprising, then, that her favourite memories to dwell on were those of that world. Whenever she had a break, she would duck out to the forests surrounding Rukongai with a cup of tea and used the rare moment of peaceful solitude to reminisce on her many experiences. Unfortunately, as Rukia soon found out, almost all her memories involved the one person she simply didn't want to think of.

She wondered when she had allowed mere words to get the better of her, but already she knew the answer: she _wanted_ these words, and these words only, to get the better of her. Ichigo was her best and closest friend - if worst came to worst there was no-one else she would rather be romantically linked (however falsely) with. Because when she had first caught wind of the gossip, buried deep under the horror and mortification was a small tinge of pleasure. Rukia was, after all, still a woman at heart, however frozen over she had forced it to become. She had simpy taken it for granted that men would only desire her for her status and not for who she was. All her female friends had had questions and elbow nudges aplenty; Rangiku and Yoruichi and Inoue and yes, even Nanao _(she herself had seen the look in Kyoraku-taicho's eye)_. Rukia told herself that she was fine with it _(she was independent; she could take care of herself)_ but something feminine deep inside her was slightly wounded that no-one even admired her looks, however shallow and petty that was, despite knowing full-well she was nothing special to look at. But it wasn't in her nature to dwell on those sort of things, so she pushed them down and took up another document, another mission.

Couple that with the admission that she did feel Something for the orange-haired substitute _(but what was that something? Partner? Mentor? Best friend? Siblings… she dare not even think the last option)_ and it was impossible to get any of it out of her mind. Ichigo was... well, _Ichigo._ The hero of Soul Society. The boy who put his everything on the line to take down those that threatened all he had sworn to protect. It was impossible to her that someone so renowned, so selfless, could possibly feel anything for her.

She had it all sorted out. Ichigo didn't feel anything for her (and why should he?). There was no point in allowing the Something to develop if it would just end up in her getting hurt. And if, by some minute chance he did, well, that was impossible. Ichigo had always been straight-to-the-point, impatient and rash. He didn't care for the consequences. If he really did harbour feelings for her since their earliest days, he certainly didn't let on. It was true they were close, but for Rukia, that friendship was enough.

She gripped the branch harder. At least she only ever unlocked the thoughts whenever she had a moment to herself – to do so at any other time would be suicidal. _Do, and you become._ She had been the ice princess for so long, Rukia had forgotten how to distinguish. But to relive those memories was her secret pleasure. The petite shinigami checked the sun (_even now, she relied on his metaphor_) and, happy she had a little longer, settled into the branches of the tree.

There was one memory that stood out for her amongst all the others. It was a memory of firsts: the first time she felt the effects of her drained _reiatsu_, the first time she allowed human emotion to show and the first time that Ichigo (_since the accident, she later found out)_ had allowed his ever-present guard down.

oOo

_They had just gotten used to working nightly Hollow Hunts together. Her pager goes off at the unholy hour of three, so to vent her irritation Ichigo's wake-up call consists of a harder-than-necessary punch in the jaw with her glove._

_He wakes with a howl of pain that could have woken his neighbours had it not been cut off by his head connecting with the wall. Muttering under his breath about violent midgets, he slowly stands, gingerly touching his scalp. Fighting to keep the fatigue from her voice, she imperiously tells him to shut his trap because she's tired, dammit, and his voice is too harsh for her delicate ears this early. Ichigo's face screws up in righteous indignation and he opens his mouth to yell, but then seems to think better of it (maybe she **has** drilled something into that thick skull…) and shuts it. He squints at her through the darkness._

_"You alright?"_

_"Peachy." It comes out as a snarl._

_He walks towards her and then turns his back. She's about to ask what the hell he thinks he's doing, but then he crouches. When she finally understand, she folds her arms and scowls._

_"I'm not a child, Ichigo."_

_"Well, you're acting like one. You're not the only one who's tired."_

_"Then don't carry me."_

_"Rukia!" He cranes his neck to glare. "It's the quickest way. What are you gonna do? Run? Just. Get. On." _

_She's about to argue back when the pager goes off again. All the fight gone out of her, she swallows her pride and gets on._

_They are soon out the window and into the chilly air ("Stop digging your bony knees in, short-stack!" "Unless you want to be held accountable for my injuries then by all means, beanpole, let me fall."). He leaps swiftly over rooftops and power-poles as she directs them towards a small park. Rukia's annoyed to note that it's on the other side of Karakura, because whilst he's fully decked out in shinigami robes she's in nothing but one of Yuzu's summer nightgowns. It is then that the main alarm goes off in her head, alerting her as to just how much power she is losing in residing in the gigai. The realisation hits her hard: she's so drained, the only thing keeping her conscious is the biting cold that nips her skin. It's enough to make her feel deep shame. _

_Rukia, this is what you have become? A helpless damsel again? (Later, high up in a white tower, this is the memory she uses to help convince herself of her crimes)._

_Despite operating under adrenaline and instinct more than any real consciousness himself, the two Hollows are disappearing before Zangetsu in under two minutes of hearing them roar. Rukia spares him the post-fight lecture simply because it takes energy she doesn't have to get the words to come out coherently and climbs back on without a word, quietly grateful for his body heat (his large, calloused hands are warm under her bare knees). They head for home. In the comfortable silence and her heavy fatigue she allows her forehead to rest on his back._

_Then, as her lids are closing, she feels his thumbs tentatively begin stroking the outside of her thighs. Her eyes snap open._

_"What are you doing?" (drowsy-thick, but even back then he'd sensed the underlying wariness, the unfamiliarity of personal space invaded, the alien concept of touch as a means of comfort)._

_He retorts instantly, almost defensively. "You're in a freaking nightgown, midget. Besides, my fingers are getting numb from your skin." There's a pause. Then: "My dad used to massage my mum's shoulders when she was tired." His voice is gruff. She gets the feeling he's only spilling this because he's tired, too._

_Rukia has to admit that it does feel nice, and decides that she'll permit it (breaking so many rules...)._

_"Then what did you stop for?" She shifts slightly then tightens her grip, like a limpet to a rock. "If you're going to do something, do it properly."_

_As always, he sees the nagging for what it is and continues._

_They're halfway back now. Usually she would never go on a Hollow hunt in this state (for obvious reasons – it gets you killed) but she even then, so early in their friendship, she trusts the orange-haired shinigami enough to have her back. But the gigai is just as Urahara had warned, eyes for once gleaming serious under his ridiculous hat. Little by little, she was succumbing to the lure of expressing different shades of emotion, letting a slip-up of genuine smile or righteous anger past her carefully constructed barriers (and buried deep inside the little street urchin pure of the ways of nobles rejoiced at the freedom to express more than nothing). Sighing, she put the limits of her faux human body out of her mind to bury her face into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent that she can now - alarmingly - find traces of on herself. She hears him inhale sharply and, assuming it's her cold breath on his neck, turns her face without protest._

_She can feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into sleep, lulled by his warmth and steady movements, knowing that he's felt the change and has slowed his pace (she remembers thinking: we are adjusting to each other well. I didn't even have to tell him). When they finally land on the carpet in his room, she has barely enough consciousness to get off. Her mind dimly registers the surprise as he gently places her on his bed. Rukia hears him chuckle without humour, and though he's close enough to touch her he sounds very far away._

_"You should skip school tomorrow."_

_"No," she mumbles, fighting to have the words come out clearly, "it's just this stupid gigai. It amplifies everything."_

_He regards her silently, the moonlight illuminating his features made sharper with disapproval, watching as she relaxes into the cool plaster. Revelling in the peaceful silence a world away from the curdling cry of Hollows and steel through flesh (to favour this world above your own; Rukia, what has gotten into you?)._

_"No. I can rest here." His face was still hard but his eyes soften, no doubt imagining where she came from (long missions so many Hollows so many fallen so much blood so much heartache she should correct him but isn't it true-ah, too many questions she doesn't want answered) and then he is moving towards her._

_"Then rest here." He scoops her up with ease, cradling her against his body in a way she can see him holding his sisters, taking care not to jolt her as he walks towards the closet. As soon as he's tucked her in, she summons the last of her energy to say thankyou. A word she has found herself saying more and more in this strange world of moving stairs and picture boxes and juice packs._

_"Yeah yeah. Just so long as you don't steal my money in the morning to buy that phone charm." _

_The only indication she can give is a slight twitching of the corner of her mouth._

_"Good night, Rukia." He gently slides the door closed._

oOo

When she opened her eyes, the pangs of homesickness were already there. Not for the Kuchiki Manor, but for a tiny apartment in Kanagawa, owned by a seemingly ordinary young man.

It had been seven weeks. It was already far too long.

Rukia felt no shame in admitting that whilst she didn't love him, she certainly did miss him.

* * *

I really feel that this is where she's at, so it was hard writing it when I just wanted to _shake her hard._

I also tend to have really convoluted writing, so sorry about that (you can tell my thoughts just jump all over the place). What I want to convey is that Rukia genuinely doesn't believe Ichigo feels anything for her because he hasn't acted anything out of the ordinary. Which is true, to an extent. As well as her belief that she will never be good enough (Kuchiki clan, I look at you) she feels that there's no point in letting on she feels an inkling of The Something because it may well be platonic or sibling love. Still very platonic at this stage. She's basically placed herself between a rock and a hard place, so it's gonna take a major wake-up call to get her to see the light.

Also maybe should've changed the title... slightly misleading. And another clarification: as mentioned in chapter one, Ichigo is now twenty. It's been five years since the Winter War. The last time Rukia was in the Living World was before the first chapter. She hasn't been back since.

Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Thankyou for reading and hope to see you next time!


	4. Doesn't Trust You

Finally, huh.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, Aizen would be interrupted during one of his patronising speeches by a Rukia kicking him in the face.

* * *

He's Just Not That Into You If He: Doesn't Trust You

"Todai is an ass," Ichigo groaned, slamming a huge stack of journals and assignments on his coffee table. "I won't even _start_ you," he announced, collapsing on his couch and eyeing off the papers in distaste, "until Monday." He snorted, lip curling. "It's freaking Friday," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "What are they tryna do? Kill us?"

"_Idiot. Who wouldn't want to?"_ Something inside him churned uncomfortably.

He wished the real Rukia had spoken, and not the pretend one in his head.

Sighing, he turned and pressed his nose in the couch, breathing deeply. He frowned. Not even the faintest scent of a certain petite, dark-haired female shinigami. Then again, he would be surprised if it had; she'd now been absent for a grand total of four months and three days (keeping track by counting the number of days _not_ stamped by that horrifically ugly bunny on his bedroom calendar). It was by far the longest she had ever been called away and Ichigo constantly felt anxious and worried over her safety with every minute that passed (_what if she was on a Hollow Hunt? What if she got injured? What if what if..._). But, more than that, he missed her and felt her absence much more than he would ever let on. His apartment may be tiny, but without her presence it just seemed too big.

As usual, when he felt anxiety he felt for her reiatsu. She never knew that he continuously sought her out. The familiar sense of warm reassurance soothed his frustrations and let him know she was alright (_he'd learned how after making an ass of himself the last time he couldn't get in contact with her; the lecherous __geta-boshi__ had explained that he would be one of the few to be able to do so over the span of both worlds due to his immense reiatsu.). _With closed eyes, he sought through the masses of floating ribbons for her unique signature.

Finding it and satisfied that she was safe, he blinked his eyes back to focus, then glanced at the clock. Seven. Groaning, he forced his body to move off the couch and towards the kitchen. Finding some vegetables, mince, pasta and a tin of tomatoes, he got to work. As he chopped sticks of celery whilst keeping an eye on the onion in the pan, he couldn't help but grin as he remembered Rukia's first cooking lessons.

oOo

"Turn off the gas! _Turn off the gas!"_

"Okay okay, jeez, beanpole."

"Rukia, its freaking _spaghetti bolognaise_! How can you be so _bad?"_ Then, immediately: "Ouch, bitch! That spoon has hot sauce on it!"

"Serves you right. It's not like Nii-sama's cooks would let me anywhere near the kitchen."

"I can see why..."

"What was that, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Ugh, don't use that voice!"

"Why ever not, Kurosaki-kun?"

"It's fucking creepy!"

"Oh my, Kurosaki-kun, what a bad temper you have. I... I only wante—"

"Shut _up,_ Rukia! Stop with those fake tears already. And why do you have to say—wait, what's that smell?"

"...what? Ichigo. Why are you making that face?"

"RUKIA! YOU DIDN'T TURN _OFF_ THE GAS, _YOU TURNED IT UP!"_

"_WELL THEN, _WHY DIDN'T YOU CHE—_AAAHHH!_ WHAT'S THAT ALARM FOR? WHY IS IT RAINING INDOORS?"

"_THAT'S THE SMOKE ALARM SYSTEM! _BITCH_! _NOW EVERYTHING IN MY HOUSE IS _SOAKED!_"

oOo

After a few slight bumps in the beginning, under Ichigo's _very_ watchful eye, Rukia was soon able to bake a cake without him having to worry about coming home to the fire brigade.

Shaking his head, his grin quickly disappeared when he emptied the tomatoes into the pan, frowning at the rich crimson through the steam of the boiling pasta.

_Blood..._

The familiar constricting of his chest was shorter than it used to be, but it was there all the same. The War still left him with a lingering sense of dread, even though it had ended five years ago. Many had been killed or injured, many knew someone who had been killed or injured, but much had happened to forge peace in the aftermath of war. Soul Society was working overtime to restore an equlibrium between the two worlds and returning to their ancient ways of purifying and purging. He himself was now twenty (twenty-one in four months), having moved out at eighteen when he was accepted by Tokyo University for a degree in medicine. Moving into the tiny apartment in the nearby district of Kanagawa was certainly... trying.

oOo

"You have to move all this? I thought your new home was the size of your bedroom."

"Hey! It's not that small!"

"Whatever. I got Renji to come help. He'll be glad to escape Urahara for a while."

"...Does he know he's coming to do more manual labour?"

"..."

"I see."

"Oi, Renji, over here!"

"Ichigo. Rukia. What's with all the boxes... what's with the shit-eating grins?"

"Moving out."

"That's why you're here."

"_What?_ But I thought—"

"You thought wrong. Start with the couch."

"No way! Hold on."

"..."

"..."

"Who's he calling?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah, seriously giant-ass Hollow. Menos Grande. Come quick while it's still game."

"Ikkaku."

"There's a two-for-one deal on sunglasses!"

"Iba."

"Tons of sake. And hot chicks."

"Hisagi."

"..."

"Hey, Rukia."

"What."

"I wonder if my furniture'll survive this."

oOo

He'd honestly thought that Rukia would try and get out of it as much as she could, but she surprised him by carrying each and every box up and carefully unpacking them. Which may or may not have something to do with him _accidentally_ saying that one of the boxes _may _contain a limited edition Chappy mug Yuzu _may_ have put in as a housewarming gift. Since then it had been constant mayhem, with the shinigami suddenly inviting themselves over to crash for drinking parties and all-around chaos until he hollered at them the morning after to get the hell out and find their own places to stay, can't they tell he's trying to study?

In truth, he didn't actually have the heart to do it, but they always managed a lewd "but _Rukia_ stays overnight _all the time,_" insinuation and, well, they really sealed their own fates from there. He could hear them laughing uproariously as they swaggered down the street and felt his cheeks colour under his tan.

Ichigo had long ago accepted his feelings for the woman that made his rain stop. He had waited a long time for her to wake up to the obvious, yet knew instinctively she wasn't ready to face it yet. She'd finally almost completely healed from her ordeal with Kaien (_although the scar will never fade_) and the loss of so many (_he grieved as well, but did so silently because she needed someone to get her through although she'd never ask and it wasn't his place to feel sorry for himself when she had known them for most her life_). Another emotional bombshell was not what she needed right now.

But he needed her. It was as simple as that.

Hell, she made him laugh, she made him believe, she made him strong. He whole-heartedly placed his trust in her and while he saw he was cracking her mask, she didn't even know she had cracked his. The trademark scowl he wore like armour softened in her presence and, sometimes, completely disappeared. In breaking through his facade she broke through his protective shell and became an indispensible part of himself.

Which was why, he thought as he tasted the sauce, he told her about his mother's death.

The night they confessed their darkest hours was after she had woken from her coma, received after taking a blow from Aizen for an incapacitated Momo. It was seeing her in a pool of her own blood (_again. Can you never protect the one person you swore to?)_ that had made him go berserk with rage – creating enough of an opening for the combined forces of Yoruichi, Unohana and tiny Yachiru to finally end the slick-haired bastard and, with him, the War. In the aftermath, he silently carried her to the fourth and never left her side.

Six weeks was more than enough time for him to completely memorise without hindrance her delicate features (_tilt of nose_, _curve of cheek_, _dip of temple, fullness of mouth_) and finally sort out what he wanted out of himself, her and them. He'd never really taken the time to properly think about it, believing that it would simply happen when it happened, but Ichigo had forgotten he was never good with waiting. The fact that she couldn't move to harm him physically while healing him emotionally was too unnatural for him to bear (_he remembered all too well another time when she could not run, shackled down by guilt and customs and duty and that damned red collar inside sterile white walls..._).

It took all of two seconds to come up with his skeleton plan for the future (_he only wanted three things: her, a clinic, an apartment just big enough for two)_, and all the particulars, well, they'd happen when they happened (_idiot goat-chin said something once about grandchildren, didn't he?)._ When she woke, he nearly fainted from relief and fatigue, and in the secrecy of quiet darkness and anaesthetised patients told her his ugliest secret (_she deserved to know, to be the only one allowed to judge and sentence as she pleased kami, when did he become like this?_).

She was silent for a long time, eyes glazed over and far away after he finished, then patted the bedding. When she spoke, it was nothing like his tone, all vulnerable and hesitant. She spoke like it had happened to someone else, tone emotionless and formal. He knew it was the only way she could bring herself to speak of it. When she was done, he simply pulled her into him and told her to sleep. He thanked Unohana for not telling Byakuya about the position she found them in the next morning, his arms around her in a protective embrace, her face buried in his robes. The thin trail of dried salt down their cheeks was more than enough for the compassionate Captain (_deadly far beyond her bankai, wise far beyond her years, kind far beyond her smile) _to not interfere.

oOo

He ate alone, a medical journal open beside him and occasionally, to break the silence, played voicemails from his phone and memories from his mind. Ever since he received his spirit pager from her the day he left Soul Society, he tried to leave memorable ones when he knew she couldn't answer, in the hopes that she would save them and use them like he did hers – to keep him strong and smiling in lonely hours.

They talked whenever they could, speaking freely about anything and everything, but Ichigo chose to keep to himself that the nightmares that plagued his teenage years returned with a vengeance whenever she wasn't around, escalating and becoming more bloody and drawn-out the longer she was away. He sometimes had people over and was even tutoring a girl in one of his classes in a vain attempt to keep them at bay, but none remotely compared to the company of the tiny shinigami. He sighed, turning the page with words he saw but didn't read. It was probably because he _wanted_ no other company. Sure, he could simply go to Urahara and open a portal, but Rukia had a job to do and he respected that. Ichigo trusted her enough to come back to him, however long it may take.

So for now, as he replayed her latest message, her voice was enough (_lies, but infinitely better than nothing)_ to keep him together until she once again came to relitter his apartment with sketchbooks and clothes, stamp his calendar and reinforce every single reason why, ever since she lived in his closet, he had never stopped loving her. He smiled ruefully, thinking back to a conversation they'd had a month into her return.

For once, the damn pineapple was right.

* * *

A taste of Ichigo's side of things in this whole mess, so, it's pretty obvious where he stands. I kinda find it ironic that whilst Rukia can only connect Living World experiences with Ichigo (it's _his_ world), everything in it reminds Ichigo of Rukia, which is what I was trying to show by having so many of his memories put in here. Currently preparing to get Rukia to finally pull her head out of her ass, so stay tuned.


	5. Is Taken

Hmm, late again. Boooo.

This one is suuuper short but is the calm before the storm that is the next chapter.

Honestly not happy at all with this one, but I just want to get it out because I want to get the climatic one out. Thankyou to all the people who have stuck to this inferior bit of work so far!

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, Jinta and Ururu would so be Urahara and Yoruichi's love children. (There are at least twenty people who share this view).

* * *

He's Just Not That Into You If He: Is Taken

_Have you heard? Have you heard? Have you heard?_

She was used to ignoring them by now, but today one stopped her cold.

"Have you heard that Kurosaki is seeing a girl from his uni?"

The floor seemed to go soft under her feet and suddenly everything in the world was muted out to the voices of two girls she had never met in her entire afterlife.

"No _way_... I was _so _in love with. The way he saved Kuchiki-san from certain death..."

"Hey, speaking of Kuchiki-san, I always thought that she'd end up with him."

"That's what I thought! I totally thought that too, but apparently not. Maybe she just didn't get her noble head out of the clouds quick enough."

"Don't say that in front of Maki-chan. You know how much she respects her. Apparently she only joined the thirteenth because of the way Kuchiki-san treated her."

"So you heard it from Maki-chan? I thought she was Kurosaki and Kuchiki's biggest fan."

"She still is. She was devastated when she found out."

"Did she say what the girl's name was?"

"No, she didn't..."

"Was it the orange-haired girl? You know, the really pretty one that came with him to save Kuchiki-san?"

"No, it wasn't her, another girl with long brown hair."

"What's the proof that he's seeing her, anyway? Dish!" _Yes, what **is** the proof?_

A hushed tone. "Apparently, Kuraida-chan was on her first patrol duty in Kanagawa and she saw Kurosaki and this really pretty girl walk into his house."

"So?"

"They didn't leave til _late._"

"Oh. My god."

"I know, right?"

"Did you see them ki-"

Rukia turned and shunpo-ed away.

Shakily, she returned to the thirteenth and sat at her desk, shock and disbelief clouding her features, before shaking her head. Taking up a paper, she scanned the words without reading _(Ichigo always remembers what he reads-ARGH!)._

Honestly, what was she doing? This was insane! Why was she acting this way? Wasn't this what she wanted all along, for Ichigo to find a normal human girl?

_But you weren't expecting him to **actually **do it, were you?_

Because it had become increasingly clear to Rukia that although she felt it was the best course of action the cracks would eventually show. Ichigo didn't lead a double life: he led one, with his shinigami duties melding seamlessly with his human ones. His sudden injuries would have to be explained if he sustained any, and the thought of someone else tending to him, someone else memorising scars she wouldn't see until who-knows-after grated viciously on something possessive and animal inside her. She could admit to feeling protective, hell she'd made it clear enough to make Ichigo outright state it before the final siege.

_"Kurosaki-kun, let me heal-" she'd unconsciously clenched her jaw._

_"No thanks, Inoue." A cocky grin, eyes sparkling with warm mischief. "Rukia wouldn't like that very much."_

_Her jaw dropped open. Did, did that arrogant-_

_But then his voice dropped, his gaze never leaving hers although he was speaking to Inoue._

_"And neither would I."_

_(In the long silence that followed, Inoue Orihime looked from Kurosaki Ichigo to Kuchiki Rukia and joined the dots. When he moved towards the petite shinigami, the girl closed her eyes, smiled, and took her leave._

_"I see.")_

She wasn't _jealous_, thankyou, it was just that she never thought Ichigo would actually do what she'd told him to. A large part of her buried underneath the layers of _I can't I can't I can't_ was screaming that it was wrong. That she should give herself a chance, put herself in the running, because how can you get what you want if you don't even sign up? But no, it was for the best.

It was for the best.

It. Was. For. The. Best.

It didn't make her feel any better.

"Rukia-chan?"

Her head snapped up immediately and she forced her mind to blank all things Living World.

"Ukitake-taicho!"

"Sit, Rukia-chan." The genial white-haired captain smiled kindly, noting her flustered state - inwardly, he commended Ichigo for unlocking so much emotion in her (he and Shun _knew_ it was a good idea to give him that badge!). "There is something of concern I wish to talk to you about. No no," he laughed, seeing that she simply looked more panicked, "you haven't done anything wrong. I just couldn't help but notice that you turned down two Living World assignments." He frowned in concern. "Is there anything wrong?"

_What could she say? Sorry, no Living World assignments for me because I currently seem to be allergic to that world as it bring about hallucinations that everything leads back to him._

"I'm fine, really, just tired."

A sigh _(even that seemed full of wisdom. Her Captain never failed to make her feel how young she truly was)_. "I am old. You cannot fool me. I've been there myself and seen others go through exactly what you're going through."

She felt confused.

"Going through what, Taicho?"

"Denial, Rukia."

She gaped.

"T-Taicho...?"

"But," he said carefully, "I won't press you. Rukia, as your concerned friend, I want you to take this assignment on. It is effective as of now."

"B-But-"

"And as your superior officer, I order you to take it on."

"But I-"

"Ah ah," Ukitake smiled. "Go. Sort this out with him." He produced a file from the sleeve of his haori and pushed it into her trembling hands. "Go, Rukia," he repeated, looking earnestly into her searching eyes. "It's been six months. Half a year. You and he deserve a talk, right?"

And before Rukia could scrape up enough of anything to say something - no? I shouldn't? Thankyou? - he had already risen and disappeared back into his quarters.

Well.

Heaving a long sigh, she went to prepare a gate.

* * *

I usually don't ask for reviews, but they do make us authors feel loved and appreciated, and I want to feel as pumped as I can when I post the next chapter!


	6. Doesn't Love You

This is it.

This is where all the little threads from previous chapters link up and become one. Actually, a lot of little questions have already been answered along the way if you've read each chapter properly (which a lot of people have, judging by the reviews *tearsniff*) but this is where it all comes together. No more flashbacks. No more 'in the past this happened'. Real time.

Hit it.

* * *

He's Just Not That Into You If He: Doesn't Love You

It's near midnight when Rukia steps out of the senkaimon_. _

As usual, she's instantly hit with his huge reiatsu, but immediately upon contact knows something is very wrong. Instead of the gentle pulsing of deep sleep, it's flaring and spiking haphazardly in all directions, causing streetlights to flicker and windows to shake and, were it not for the barriers they'd erected, would have been a Hollow's dream feast. For a split second, she's rooted to the spot before she recognises the crazed pattern: it's fear, and what _Ichigo _fears... anxiety rises like bile in her throat and all thoughts of a potential Significant Other fly from her mind; the petite shinigami can't get to Ichigo's apartment fast enough. Covering the last few kilometres in seconds, she lunges, reaching for his windowsill with scrabbling, shaking fingers. Skids through.

What she sees makes her heart constrict in her chest.

His sheets are kicked off as sweat beads down quivering muscles pulled taut, sticking damp orange strands to his forehead. A quick once-over confirms he isn't bleeding, which means only one thing...

"Okaa-san—!"

Her insides twist sharply, and she's by his side in an instant. Rukia may be immune to his reiatsu, but now even she feels the strain of approaching him, waves of pure power unhindered, uncontrolled. Blood is pumping in her ears and her mind is racing. His nightmares had faded out years ago, why now...?

"I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_…" he chokes out, and kami if he doesn't sound so broken, so tormented, locked inside a personal torture chamber she knows all too well and suddenly the years seem to melt away and he is before her at fifteen, plagued with guilt and everything self-loathing. He'd had bad ones at least once a week (and particularly violent ones at least once every three) but back then, in the earliest stages, the grip on her emotions was still too tight for her to step out of the closet and offer him any comfort; she made herself especially scarce the morning after because his haggard, drawn face would warp before her eyes into that of another.

It's something Rukia has never forgiven herself for.

"Ichigo." He turns his face toward her, but doesn't wake. His reiatsu is still spilling without check, and each erratic wave is now beginning to feel like a punch in the stomach. Considering he'd finally learned to keep it under control before facing off against Aizen gives her a glimpse as to the extent of his dreaming.

_He must have been like this for hours..._

"No, I…" suddenly his features darken in anger, but panic is creased into his forehead. "_Aizen_."

"_Ichigo!" _She needs to snap him out of it. She needs to do something, _anything,_ to break him out of this.

"Leave her alone. Leave her _alone_." His right hand clenches, as if he is gripping Zangetsu white-knuckle-tight and as her own panic spikes and reaches fever-pitch she acts automatically.

Her fist collides with the side of his face.

He bolts upright with a scream clawing its way up his throat (_not from his jaw, but pain somewhere much deeper_) and it breaks her heart to see him like this – breath ragged gasps, skin cold with sweat, eyes fearful and desperate and guilty all at once. She watches, frozen in place, as he stills to focus and take in familiar surroundings before allowing herself to gently lay a hand on his shoulder. Ichigo starts from the touch, but relaxes on seeking out her eyes in the dark.

A smile.

"Midget."

"Don't midget me, Ichigo." She feels sick. Why didn't he tell her? She can barely choke out her next words. "All this time, you…?"

He gently takes her hand off his shoulder but doesn't let it go. Rukia is only vaguely aware he's massaging it, rubbing soothing circles over clammy skin and jumping pulse.

"Didn't want you to worry."

"_This_ is not making me worry?" She hisses, enraged in her fear. His eyes flinch. He lowers his gaze, and she instantly feels remorse. "Ichigo… you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just…" She runs a shaky hand through her hair, and when she lets it fall he captures that one, too. "When I was here… you never had…"

"It's been six months."

She frowns, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He doesn't reply, instead focusing on keeping her hands enveloped in his.

"Ichigo?" She asks again, impatient.

He still doesn't answer, and she grows tired of whatever game he's playing. "Ichigo. _What_ is th—" But then he gives her a look from under sweaty bangs that instantly silences her.

"You should know."

She inhales sharply (_the utter gravity with which he spoke those words scares her) _and the walls seem to rush in on them and she's suddenly very aware he's massaging her hands and tries to take them back.

He doesn't let go.

_This is not happening. This is __**not **__happening. Just because I thought it doesn't mean I'm ready for it to happen. Too fast too fast too soon too soon—_

"Rukia…" Her heart slams into her chest (_wild horses ramming against cave walls_). He's never, _never_, spoken her name like that before. Her breath quickens as all the mental alarms in her head are sounding off Dangerous Territory. She tugs harder, but he simply grips tighter.

"Let go." For once, she thanks her Kuchiki training.

"No." _What?_

"What?"

"I said no."

He's too calm, and suddenly she just **knows** (_somehow, please let it be wishful thinking what are you talking about this is what you want no I'm not ready I don't deserve) _what's coming next, and frantically tries to extract her hands though she knows it's all in vain and she's too late because his mouth has already begun to form the words she's both yearned and dreaded to hear.

"I love you."

Rukia's world grinds to a halt.

She doesn't dare meet his eyes, but staring at the sheets only draws her gaze to their hands. The seconds tick by.

"You know, a reply would be nice," he says sarcastically, but she knows he's nervous about revealing his final card.

It's as if the entire universe is holding its breath, waiting for her reply. Waiting for her to throw caution to the wind, to finally achieve what fate seems to have planned all along.

But, "I-I…" is all that comes out. She tries to swallow, but her throat remains dry.

"Listen, Rukia," his voice is soft in a bid to make her see reason, "I've waited long enough to tell you. Maybe too long, but I can't just stand by anymore and pretend to be happy as your best friend. _I need you, Rukia. _As more than that. As what we're supposed to be."

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finds the words in her scattered mind. "You," she furiously shakes her head, as if the physical movement will somehow jumble her thoughts into some sort of coherent order. She wants to scream, be sick, run away, anything but this_._ "The nightmare got to you. You don't… you don't know what you're saying." _Yes he does you know it he knows you know it Rukia you stupid selfish girl._

It's clearly not the reply he's expecting; his exasperation and frustration are clear. "This isn't brought on by that! I've probably known since I first saw you kill that Hollow and you just went and ignored me and the Plus girl. _I freaking_ _couldn't stop thinking about you_, and then you, you just _appear _in my window."

Arguing. She scrambles to find her footing on familiar ground. "Maybe because, I don't know, it was your first time seeing something like that? Of course you're going to think about it!"

"But I wasn't even thinking about the Hollow. I was thinking about _you._ Who _you_ were. There was just this... this urge to know you better. You must have felt it."

"No. I didn't."

"Then what about saving you from execution? That not count?"

"You saved Inoue too, Ichigo! Does _that_ not count?" In her quick replies, it is becoming painfully obvious to the petite shinigami that she has spent far too much of her spare time rationalising and justifying reasons for everything he has ever done for her.

"I was willing to turn back. For you. And I let you stay here. You always stay here. It's practically a given. Never Inoue's, never Urahara's, never Dad's. Mine."

A tired sigh. She chooses to ignore the double meaning of his last word, because that would bring on a fight about _you don't own me,_ which is the last thing she wants. "Because we're partners."

He scoffs. "So you don't think I'm strong enough to take on Hollows myself?"

"Ichigo, you know the answer to that."

"Well, why do you need to be here, then?"

"Ukitake-taicho sends me. It's my job." Her tone is stoic enough to make Byakuya proud.

"That's bullshit, Rukia!" He yells. "That's a load of crap and you know it!"

"Orders aren't _bullshit_, Ichigo, unless you're calling being a shinigami bullshit! And I know what Aizen said abo—"

"_I don't give a fuck_ what Aizen said, but since you're so keen on shooting down every argument I have, he also said that we had to have the will to meet first, but we'd never met before then. Which brings me to my next point." He's tugged her onto the mattress with him before she can protest. "Do you know what that means, Rukia?" His voice is low and serious. Damn the way he says her name. "It means we've met before. In another life. Maybe many times before."

"You're crazy…" she whispers.

"Dammit, Rukia!" He's right in her face now, searching her eyes with his. "I just _know_, and I know you know it too, so I may not have any idea what's keeping you from coming out and saying you want this but as soon as I find out I'm shredding it with my bare hands."

"Are you really that arrogant to think that whoever you pick is going to magically fall in love with you, Ichigo? And you have no proof that we knew each other in previous lives _if_ we had any!"

His eyes narrow. "I do have proof. Most humans don't believe in the next life. Pretty much all humans have no solid proof. So unless my family and I are _actually_ insane your world shouldn't exist. _You_ shouldn't exist. Yet here you are. What's to say there isn't a few more?"

"Like you said, I'm dead. You're living. _I'm decades older than you._ Don't you see anything wrong with that?"

He cocks an eyebrow and says bluntly: "Didn't stop my parents."

She's running out of points to make, and she knows he knows it. Frantically searching through all her mental points, she then remembers - shamefully - part of the reason she was here in the first place.

"What about the girl?"

That stops him. His next words are wary.

"What girl?"

"You know, Ichigo, a normal human girl? A living one? One that studies math and not Hollows and has probably killed nothing but a fly in her entire life?"

"There are a lot of those. You're going to have to be more specific."

"You know which one I'm talking about!"

"No, I don't! I don't play dumb and you know it, so do us both a favour and spit it out already!"

"They say you've been coming home with a girl lately." She mutters finally. "One with long brown hair or something."

There's a silence, and then comprehension dawns on his face. "Rukia," he gives a short, disbelieving laugh, "you're being completely irrational."

"_I'm_ being irrational?" She cries, "I just don't see how you can suddenly decide to love me after you've had her around until late, and, and-"

"And what, Rukia?" He looks amused now, which naturally makes her angrier. "And that means that I like her? Or that she likes me?"

Her eyes narrow as her thought processes begin to sum up just how much ground she's lost. "If you're implying that I'm jealous," she says slowly, "I'm not. I feel sorry for the girl, if she likes you. That's all."

"But nothing's going on, you paranoid hobbit!"

"She must. If she stays late and everything."

"So staying at my house, letting me feed her dinner and helping her out means that she loves me?" There's a giant smirk on his face, and only then does the petite shinigami realise the hole she's dug.

"I. Do not. Love you." The words leave a strange taste in her mouth (_bitterness)_ but she keeps her expression aloof.

"Ouch, that hurt." His tone is caustic enough, but she wishes she imagined the pain that momentarily dulls his eyes.

"So," she mumbles, "who is this girl, anyway?"

He doesn't say anything until she finally looks up, looks him straight in the face.

"Just that, Rukia. A girl." When she doesn't look convinced, he sighs. "I tutor her in some of my units. If it makes you feel better," a flash of a grin, "she has a boyfriend. He's already lectured me enough without you on my ass as well."

She also really wishes that relief didn't just flood her entire body. To cover it and try and lighten the mood _(and hopefully get off this accursed, awkward topic),_ she sniffs haughtily. "Public menace."

But Ichigo's not having any of it.

"Don't try and avoid the conversation, Rukia. It's been a long time coming, and we need to have it. We probably had it in all our other lives. Our previous lives."

She hates that he's looking at her out of the corner of his eye, hates his provoking look, hates his matter-of-fact tone, hates that he's being so stubborn _(hates that she wishes it were true)_. She's frustrated and exasperated by this whole thing; all it's doing is showing that her logic is wrong. If anything, Rukia hates being wrong. "Well, you can't prove that we were involved in any way in those lives!"

"I don't need to!" He's back to yelling now. "The fact that I've just rejected all your opinions should be enough!" She knows instantly what memory he's trying to provoke, and though she tries not to let it get to her the pattern is out of her mouth before she can stop it.

"_Reject my opinions!_ What sort of a bigoted, arrogant…"

Their argument escalates as their stubborn personalities clash over and over again. He has the unyielding stance of one who can't understand why his soulmate is denying the inevitable. She is arguing with the desperation of one who can't bear to see him be paired for life with someone so undeserving as her. The thought of eternity, she didn't even dare to comprehend.

"..and besides all that, we _know_ each other. When we… not say things, I get you. I get what you mean, but sometimes I need to hear it, you know? Just in case what I'm thinking you're... not saying... is all in my head and what I want to hear and—and not... not what you meant." _Inwardly she's screaming me too me too kami me too._ He gives her a crooked (_and devastatingly disarming) _half-smile. "You can't deny that."

"You don't understand, Ichigo—"

"No, _you_ don't understand! When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that I _do _love you, dammit? Hear I am, telling you to your face because obviously communicating it with actions _for years _isn't clear enough, and you _still_ doubt me?"

_It's not you I doubt._ "You just can't be so sure!"

The last of his patience snaps.

"You _are_ doubting me! Fine!"

He lets go of her hands and for one horrible moment she feels her traitorous heart drop six feet under. But then one is at her hip and the other carding through her hair as he roughly slams her into him before bringing her upwards, bending to meet her halfway to all but smash his mouth into hers.

Rukia's everything is suddenly upside-down and inside-out; the butterflies in her stomach are doing aerial stunts and she feels gloriously, wonderfully light-headed, completely unable to concentrate on anything but what he's doing to her. He's brutal and it's almost an assault, but the way that he gently presses her into the mattress reassures it's not another (_yellow eyes too pale skin too pale hair too harsh voice)_ and damn it all she can't help but respond. Respond by closing her eyes and surrendering because she's fought down her emotions for too long and she's tired of it, tired of quickly stamping out any feelings more than friendship for this young man who would do – could do – anything and everything for her because this is too much too fast and she can't deny herself this when he's making all logical thought melt into nothing but _moremoremore_. He groans his approval as she tentatively kisses him back, redoubling his efforts hard and fast as her arms loop tight around his neck. His mouth leaves swollen lips to nuzzle open enough of her _shihakusho_ to expose her right shoulder, kissing his way down her pale neck and along her collarbone as she gasps in oxygen and exhales "_Ichigo!"_ He merely chuckles against her skin as his large hands run up and down her sides, fingers almost meeting at her tiny waist as he archs her off the sheets to meld her into him. It's as if he's aware of how much her internal battle has fueled her actions so far and is desperate to permanently attach her to him before she changes her mind back and is out of his grasp forever.

But right now, he needn't worry. Her world is now revolving around how to get more of this, doing a complete one-eighty on its axis as he works his way back up to cup her face and before she can think that orange is her new favourite colour he comes in for more, and she responds with equal fervour because _she just can't get enough she's hooked she's addicted every nerve fibre is alive and crackling aching begging for his touch everywhere and at once. _

Finally, after what seems like hours _(days? months? years?),_ he slowly starts to tone down the tempo, each becoming sensuous then playful then chaste until he's pressing feather-light kisses over her jaw, lips, nose, cheek, eyebrow, forehead and back again (_each conveys the same message: I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_). When he finally stops she's never felt more liberated more exuberant more _loved _and smiling down Ichigo takes her in for one last deep, languorous kiss that has her toes curling and firecrackers going off behind closed lids before slowly, torturously, pulling back.

Save for heavy breathing, it's quiet in the bedroom for a very long time.

His warm breath fans over her face as he momentarily rests his forehead on hers. "I've wanted to do that for so long…" He tenderly strokes her hair, admiring the deep sheen in the moonlight with loving brown eyes. She's shaking, and he gives a short laugh. "Hey, you alright?" The words bring her back to reality. She just… with Ichigo… after what she had promised herself… but it was just so g—_no_. Rukia steels herself, opens her eyes and forces her voice to be even.

"That can't convince me, Ichigo."

He stills, and a long moment of terrible silence goes by. "Then what will, Rukia?" His voice is calm and quiet, but he knows only she can pick out the frustration, the pleading, the raw desperation underneath. "Tell me. Tell me what I have to do. Tell me now and I'll do it over and over until you wholeheartedly believe that you deserve this. That you want this and need this as much as I do, because judging by your reaction just then this isn't one-sided. I'm not dreaming this all up in my head."

The petite shinigami pushes against his chest and, defeated, he allows her to sit up. She quickly scoots away and fixes her robes, reddening as she's aware he hasn't taken his eyes off her.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this. It's for the best," she adds lamely.

More silence, then:

"Okay."

Shocked, she looks up in time to see him turn away.

His eyes are hidden by orange bangs as he speaks. "Okay," he repeats, "I get it. It's... it's nothing I can help with, is it? It's nothing material I can kick the ass of to make you free. And even if I can, it's not my battle. You need to figure this out by yourself, don't you? It's..." he draws in a deep, shuddering breath. "It's not me... right?" He looks straight at her then, direct and honest and _vulnerable_, and she understands.

"Right." _It's not you. No, it was never you. It's me._

Ichigo smiles; a small, tired, innocent smile that breaks her heart all over again knowing he's covering hurt and she's the cause.

"Go back to Soul Society, Rukia." His voice is gentle. "Take all the time you want. Come to terms with what you need to. No matter how long you take, I'll be waiting, and whatever your final decision is, if you're at peace with it then I'll be too."

The petite shinigami stares. Is this the same rash idiot boy that rejected her opinions all those years ago?

(_"I've… decided to stay in Soul Society."_

"_I see. That's good. Since you decided that yourself, that's a good thing, ne?")_

Tears well in her eyes.

"Thankyou, Ichigo."

And because she can't bear it anymore, she is out of the window and blindly making for Anywhere before he says something else that will make her feel more guilt than she's already feeling. The familiar route through Kanagawa swims and blurs in her water vision until she forces herself to stop in a small park and just _breaks down. _Cries as if her heart is broken, because it is. To choose her world, all she has ever known, for him. What would that mean? To stay with him, what would she have to do? All the tiny, unimportant details and not the bigger picture cloud her mind because she's looking for an answer as to why somewhere deep inside, she knows it's her fault but for the life of her can't figure out how. She's confused and tired and just wants all this to be a bad dream, but she's been in the front line too often to truly believe it.

Looking up at the night sky and the blissfully ignorant apartments, she smiles sadly. How do their occupants keep sleeping, keep hoping, keep _breathing_ when something like this happens right under their noses to someone they know? Someone they wave to in the morning, exchange news and banter with? How do they do it when hearts are shattering like mirrors and dreams tearing into shreds? How do they not feel the anguish, the burn? But she knows hers is just another and the world has no time for broken souls. Especially those who do not even attempt to fix themselves.

_"No matter how long you take, I'll be waiting, and whatever your final decision is, if you're at peace with it then I'll be too."_

He was right. He was _so_ right. She needs to figure this out, not just to give herself some closure, but for him too. Rukia may not know what she felt, but at least she knows that she won't keep Ichigo hanging for any longer than he needs to. At the very least he deserves that. Her resolve strengthens. She wipes her eyes, stands up straight.

No more running away.

_"Go back to Soul Society. Take all the time you want."_

Sode no Shirayuki slides cleanly from her sheath.

_(Ichigo feels the departure. He doesn't sleep that night.)_

* * *

Yeah, not the ending you were after, I know, but Rukia being so bogged down in her complex I think if everything happily ever aftered here there would be a lot of people going "hold on..."

Again with the threads all linking together: I hate when things happen for no apparent reason, so I really tried to give an explanation and proper follow-up for things I felt would be too random without it. Ichigo already mentioned a girl he tutored, which led into the next chapter which led into this one, and he also mentioned his nightmares getting worse. Considering he was thinking that at four and a half months, I'm pitching that whatever torture I've subjected him to in this chapter at six months is fair enough to set the scene, but you guys be the judge.

But yeah, hope that was alright.

Also, I was completely blown away by the amount of reviews for the last chapter (which is, ironically, the shortest), so thankyou very very much. You have no idea how much your words mean to me.

One more chapter to go!


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